


a goblet, a grape, a macaroon

by orphan_account



Category: Cyrano de Bergerac - Edmond Rostand, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Crushes, M/M, One's only two years older than Fire is, and swordsboy sounds... weird, he just has a better job, put your phone down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29985201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: after beating the intestines out of a poor dude, it's halftime. refreshment kid knows what's up
Relationships: Firestar/Onewhisker (Warriors)
Kudos: 1





	a goblet, a grape, a macaroon

“You cannot simply live off of a grape and a macaroon, _monsieur!_ ”

“Nonsense!” Onewhisker slammed his sword into its sheath. “Besides, I literally threw all of my money away to the theatre. A month’s worth. I cannot afford what you have, refreshment boy.”

“…And they say you are of clever wit, hmm?” The ginger questioned saucily.

“Depends on what you think of poets.” The brunet muttered with a methodical twirl of his mustache.

“Are all poets as brash and unthinking?”

“Depends on your idea of the adjectives.”

“ _De Bergerac_ ,” The teen leant over the table, mossy eyes intent. “What has that actor done to make you detest him so?”

“Why do I _hate_ him? No, this isn't true! But his cowardly manner is such a different tale, sir! He struts around as if he’s the grandest item in the world and I see nothing but a fool who boasts of inherited things. The way his gaze roves the top rows stirs up flames in my being!”

The ginger’s brows furrowed in deep thought before a gasp parted his lips.

“You fancy one of them?”

Onewhisker nearly choked on the grape he’d popped into his mouth.

“Whatever gave you that idea?!”

“That is where all of the women sit.”

“Starclan… is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” A sly expression flashed over the freckled face. “Who is it? Willing to _tell?_ ”

The brunet snatched a goblet of water, feathered hat slipping to hide his face with a small tilt, voice sharp when he spoke.

“You’re quite the nosy one, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be bitter,” Said the ginger with a snort. “I haven’t anyone to tell myself.”

“You don’t seem to recall your own presence in that section…” The swordsman grumbled mostly to himself, tipping his hat down further to hide his fiery blush. And, quickly: “Well then, merry day!”

“No,” The boy tugged at Bergerac’s cape before he could dash off, a grin winding up his rosy cheeks. “Say that again, _monsieur?_ ” 

The poet sipped down the cup slowly, as if it would save him from replying, though unfortunately, the goblet was not great in size.

“Ummmmmmm nothing! I said nothing to begin with. Nothing at all.”

“I recall a different scenario entirely.” The freckled boy shifted closer, squinting up at the guilty-looking warrior. “Something about how you were watching me when I was serving the women pastries, and how you’re knocking men off stages over me?” He paused, adding with the most innocent of smiles. “Or, am I wrong?”

Proving otherwise, an even more pronounced tint overtook the poet’s bashful features. He shifted back, hands fumbling to his face to hide the beet red.

“… _Blast you_ , child.”

The copper-curled teenager only grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> One: and since we're noticing things i guess i should tell you my mustache is fake and comprised from the hair of my auxiliary cavities and very permanent tar
> 
> Fire:


End file.
